Trees, apples, veggies oh my

Happy to be cultivating too

I can’t tell you how many times I sat here thinking of what to write first when the raucous laughter, ‘raaawr’ shouts and gleeful snickers interrupted my contemplations. Yes, those are two boys (men really) playing ping pong. They’re brothers and they take this seriously. My hubs disparaged my lack of game. My serves were either pathetic and snuggled that little net in the middle or I used too much power and the ball mysteriously went for hub’s head. Hubs, if you’re reading this, I have no idea how that happened a couple of times. Scooter referees the game, interjecting with pointed barks when he wasn’t chomping on a bone. 

If you’re on the Insta thing or knows-all Facebook, you might have seen a photo I’d posted this weekend about buying trees. Hubs finally agreed to go tree shopping with me. I was thinking like six or eight trees but he had to one up me with eleven. Okay, I’ll go along. Right up until we’re planting them that evening and he disappears to get some left over tile pipe to put around the trees. And I’m the one left digging the holes. How does that happen? I dug the majority of them but I saved two for hubs to dig. Mwuahaha! 

Scooter was a most un-helpful pup ever. He was trenching and digging three deep holes looking for moles. I guess we should’ve buried a bone where we wanted him to dig, eh?

                                   

              

Really peering down that tunnel his nose is in.

After we admired our work, I asked hubs if he wanted to plant the eight shrubs we’d also gotten. The look of disbelief was comical and I countered with all seriousness. Apparently he wanted his date night out beer (and supper) more than planting shrubs. I mean, really. Beer or shrubs? Haha.

This year has been quite the adventure in canning. As the season draws near I decided to try my hand at making apple butter. It was really quite easy. I’d already made the apple sauce and frozen most of it. I may have been at no more canning point that day. My mom’s recipe called for ten cups of applesauce so I had to modify it a little because my blender only holds seven cups.

The first part of the process, getting the apples ready.

In this photo I painstakingly did each apple. (Afterwards I learn of this lovely little gadget called a Victorio that takes boiled apples and separates the skins and seeds from the pulp. I think I'll be investing in one of those for next year because six hours straight of one by one was not my cup of tea. Not shown is the apples simmering over low heat with occasional stirring (they will burn, I did that) and going into apple sauce mode. I made several gallons of apple sauce at once and then stored it all in the fridge until I had sufficiently recuperated enough to start phase 2: apple butter. (I did save some apples from the sauce pot and put them on my dehydrator to make apple chips.) I filled two and a half 5 gallon buckets with apple peelings and cores if you were wondering how many apples I processed.

Phase 2 started with texting my mom (a couple of times, finall got it) for her apple butter recipe. Now these apples were the Goldilocks on the sweet scale so I didn't need to add any sugar (otherwise add sugar incrementally and taste). 

I loaded my 7-cup blender with apple sauce and then I added: 

1 tablespoon ground cinnamon; 

1/2 teaspoon each of cloves, allspice, nutmeg. 

Blend until all incorparted evenly.

Her recipe didn't call for nutmeg but I had seen other recipes where they added it and I liked the flavor. 

Since I had a lot of applesauce and spices to blend up, I put each new batch in one big container till I had it all mixed. And yes, there was a lot of dishwashing involved (no dishwasher = me handwasher).

 

 

Phase 3 was canning. This is the fun part because all the tedious measuring, stirring, what have you is past. I used pint jars (that's what I had on hand) but whatever size is your preference. Quart jars might be over doing it a touch. Using my handy little funnel, it also measures head space (the space left in the top of the jar, I easily filled the jars. I did leave a half inch of headspace for proper sealing. My little magnet wand saves burning my fingers in the hot water where the seals and rings are soaking. Wipe the jar rim with a towel (ensures a clean, full seal), place the seal on and screw on the ring. I lowered the jars with this sweet tool (above) into the canner bath. You can see by comparison how big the canner bath is to the standard stew pot. It's also one of the bigger ones on the market, holding seven quarts max at a time.

Boiling away! With an inch of water covering.

Yes, normally the lid is on during the boiling of the product/jars. This was taken in the five minutes you let it stand with the cover off and the heat turned off.

The finished product!

 I use apple butter like you would jelly. It's delicious and a nice fall treat. It also makes great gifts.

 May the final days of September be good to you, the coffee perky and harvest bountiful.

PS Since I had time to fill and an overabundance of cucumbers I made the final final batch of pickles, spicy and a batch of salsa because, you know, an overabundance of tomatoes.

Spicy pickles and salsa.

 

Traveling farmers, family and 140 years

140 years in the making

 This last week was so boring, absolutely nothing was accomplished (other than sleep and life and farming and well, everything) and yes, the sun still rose and set each day, that I have to write about my weekend. I’ll be honest, it was just that awesome. 

I knew it was off to a good start when the border dude was all ‘welcome home’ to me and hubs got a nod. Even the pup was quiet, if you ignore the ominous rumbling and count it as quiet that is. We even had a tailwind to help us onward and southward. Let me tell you, my pickup got excellent gas mileage that day. Even with hubs ‘teasing’ the highway patrol and gunning it past them. Mysteriously he was never over the suggested speed limit or found flashing lights in his mirrors. You can imagine the eye rolls and I might have given myself a headache from it all. (I’ll admit, I was practically sitting on my hands to not be a ‘side seat driver’ and I know a few suggestions escaped me. Yikes. The guys out there probably feel my hub’s pain and frustration.)

Combines were crawling along fields, grain carts were racing here and there and storm clouds were brewing. We ducked under the wire and beat a severe thunderstorm trying to cut us off on the interstate with dire warnings of tornado warnings. It was a good lightning show in my rear view mirror and fantastic clouds. They’re fascinating; the shape changes in a blink and some escalate quickly into the anvil head.

A new meaning to Friday night lights

 Scooter, of course, was passed out. His inner speedometer engages when we decelerate for construction, practically leap frogged those all the way down, or when we stop for a stretch break and he wakes up. No need for an air horn for this pup. 

As we left the pancake flat lands behind and wove our way into the gently rolling hills of the Midwest prairies, it was like coming home. This truly is the land of my heart. And the scenery is fantastic!

The big reason for going home, and why hubs made a big effort to come with, was the 140^th anniversary of my home church. My family had been working hard to get it planned (they were part of a committee) and the church polished up. It may be old with a hint of rugged prairie years showing but it’s a classic. It’s the church on a hill, replete with a working bell and a parsonage across the way.

It was a beautiful Sunday, the sun warming the fall-crisp air and the lightest breeze echoed through the stately pine trees. Flower pots showed off vibrant color while trees hinted fall with gold blushing at leaf tips. Cars slowly mobbed the country charm and people came together to celebrate the passing of time. Many shared their memories of growing up in the church, confirmations and some reflected back on where it all started; a sod church made up of Swedish immigrants, amidst the sea of nodding prairie grass and roaming buffalo. 

My grandma’s grandpa was the pastor and one of the charter members. That legacy continues with my family. Hubs and I got married in that church. And a lot of family history resides in the cemetery across the road.

In and around that big event, we managed to squeeze in some family time over coffee. One day, we had so much fun we coffee hopped to two different locales and considered a third, before conceding that too much espresso was perhaps too much. Clearly we bond over coffee and conversations, conversations that twist and turn, segue and make quantum leaps all the while sharing a good laugh. Still waiting for the pumpkin spice latte to arrive at my favorite local coffee shop though.

The biggest difference driving home? Seeing the change in color. No, not to fall but to green. It’s been so dry in Canuckland (only three inches since spring) that we are all caught up to harvest, waiting on the corn only. (We finally got a nice half inch rain while we were gone.) We cruised through soybeans and then back at home in SoDak, the beans are considering changing their color palette. What a difference, eh?

A nice foggy, misty morning to show off that color a-changin'

 Farmer dad estimates harvest will begin in the first week of October. Of course, the weather (hot or cold) is the driving force. I, when summoned, will head south snowbird-style for a combining vacation. My pretty red combine has had its insides all shined up, some new and is ready for me to take the captain’s chair. I even have a brand-new coffee travel mug for this season. (It really is a big deal.) Best part? The cab is nice and quiet, you can even listen to the radio. Hubs’ combine cab isn’t and with the mumbled squawks ejecting from the walkie talkie, (I guess they were talking to me?) you know the radio never gets turned on.

In the midst of all that, I did manage to say hello to my old friends. Sunny was too happy to see me that he forgot he wanted to act aloof. Flash was all about stuffing her face, as you can see. Hubs was acting as an ‘instagram husband’ (hilarious spoof on youtube) or ‘blog husband’ in this case and took the photo.

Can you tell Flash is a dainty eater? Thanks hubs for the photo. :)

Hubs and Dad did the male-bonding thing and watched some Sunday night football. I’m ambivalent about football but this game had my attention! Maybe because it was actual tv. You know, commercials, commercials, more commercials and THEN the show (or game) quickly followed by yet more commercials. Ooooh, commercials. I felt like one of those green alien dudes doing the ‘oooo’ from Toy Story. Canuckland has this thing for public tv, as in it has none. So we watch Netflix, prime or, even better, good ol’ fashioned dvd’s. News comes in the form of the little blue bird tweet app by strategized following. Or a little email that skims US news. I feel like smoke signals could be just around the corner in the ‘latest thing’ for news compared to news intake back home. Annnnnnd then the game quickly went south and it was only bearable to watch by having the tv muted. Never a good sign when you’re watching football… on mute. Yeah… the Falcons toasted the Packers. My fingers itched to channel surf to see if we were somehow on the comedy channel instead of real football.

And now we watch paint dry or the harvest equivalent, corn dry down. Maybe that phone call will come sooner to go south…

Happy harvest, may it be tail waggin’ good and the bushels heavy.

For the love of pumpkin… and happy harvest with Foodgrains bank

CHOICE wheat harvest

Technically it isn’t fall yet but the marketing gurus that be have helped us make the leap (and perhaps make the segue into fall a little easier) in the form of pumpkin spice lattes. Yummmm. It’s fall in a cup, travel-sized, ready to adventure with you and always heart-warming. Clearly, I associate good memories with this-side-of-heaven in a cup. I’m not ready for summer to end but hey, a pumpkin spice latte is a good way to go. I may have also invested in a pair of really cute, ready for fall ankle boots. Just to make sure I’m ready for fall weather. But it might have also been my hub’s visa paying penance for his little grassfire debacle. 

Grassfire aside, we are extremely blessed to not have had a major disaster such as the forest fires burning in the US and across Canada. Or the deluges of storms across the hurricane-battered states and islands. I’d like to say we’re in the happy middle, not too dry nor too wet. Unfortunately we’re leaning perilously close to super dry. Being this dry means harvest has been rumbling right along and surprisingly, yields have been good. 

Happy pup in the beans 10 days ago

Well, the soybeans will do the expected average for a dry season (33-40 bushels/acre) here in Canuckland. Based on the acres that have been harvested already; I mean, we’re in the soybeans already! Harvest is screaming by, well, at four miles per hour. Our field of edibles (pinto beans) came out at approximately 2400 pounds/acre (2000 pounds is what everyone hopes for and everything over that is the ‘whipped cream, sprinkles and a cherry on top’ in the crop).

Combining pintos

 Besides shopping and drinking coffee (I go for chiro and then that happened, how could I resist?), where have I been? The combine calls my name like a siren so I’ve been out in the field with the pintos, rumbling my way through swaths. I have attempted to take a decent video of the bean cutter undercutting the edibles; which hasn’t worked out too well for me since I can only get so close for safety. (Who knew edibles were undercut? I didn’t until I came to Canuckland.)  I may have to tap hubs for a short clip. 

Where the action happens

The last week(s) have shown me what a hamster must feel like on his wheel. Running, running and the wheel only goes so fast and you can only get so much done in one day. Although I have tried, almost every day, to see if one can possibly eek out an extra hour or two to make that the 24-hour day a 25 or 26-hour day.

The latest adventures in canning this week were made in the form of salsa! I know some people probably think food all the time when they hear ‘salsa’ but I can’t help thinking of it as a dance first then food. Uff da. I helped my sister in-law do a batch of salsa while her mom babysat my uber cute, little niece. Her house smelled like it should be spicy, Mexican-themed food for supper (or all week!).

Then I was onto prepping for the next round of canning by making gallons of apple sauce. And I’ve only processed three and a third bags of apples so far. One and two thirds to go yet; they’re big bags so it takes about three hours to peel and core my way through. Thank goodness for the thick, foamy kitchen rug. I should mention that a few of these apples are being dehydrated down into apple chips, a tasty snack! Hubs is sneaking some into his lunch bag. Or at least he thinks it’s sneaking but I see all things! Mwuhahaha! (But I won’t say anything.)

Perhaps the highlight of the week, okay, second to the pumpkin latte, was seeing the CHOICE growing project come to a close with the harvest. CHOICE (Conquering Hunger Overseas Is a Community Endeavor) is a growing project for the Canadian Foodgrains Bank, a Christian response to hunger, of which there are over two hundred and fifty of them across Canada (over thirty-five are located in Manitoba).

A growing project is where the local community comes together and sources land, seed, fertilizer, and spray to grow wheat (in this instance), most of which is donated by local businesses. The farmers of the area work with their local board like CHOICE to look after the crop during the year and for harvest, to determine how many combines, trucks and grain carts are needed to get the harvested. Harvest was done under two hours with six combines and two grain carts. Numerous semis hauled the grain to a nearby elevator. The wheat averaged 87 bushels/acre and raised over $40,000 for the Canadian Foodgrains bank from the CHOICE growing project. The raised funds are matched by the government. The goal of the Foodgrains Bank is to end global hunger and they work with their member agencies across the world implementing three different programs: food assistance, agriculture and livelihood, and nutrition. In addition to that, they also work to advocate and help shape national and international policies to end world hunger as well as raising awareness locally within Canada

It’s exciting and rewarding to be a part of agriculture. Farmers feed the world but then with the Foodgrains bank it’s taken to the next level. Feeding those that can’t afford food. We look after our communities and our countries but we should always have a heart for those in less fortunate circumstances.

May we never forget 9/11, our communities and to always have a heart for those in need. 

PS Check out my Insta or Facebook to see videos of edibles being undercut :)

Labor day shenanigans

A north wind pummeled trees, filled the air with a smoky haze and scattered swaths. I myself enjoy a good breeze but the smoky scent was enough to make me worry that we had a fire problem again. A fire problem you say?

Well, a little over a week ago hubs really wanted to burn a brush pile in the old pasture. It was like looking at a little kid that just got told he was going to the candy store. He asked what I thought but my words sailed right on by. They were a cautionary tale of it’s dry, the rain is going to miss us and you didn’t disc around the pile.

So like the memes of ‘it’ll be fun they said,’ I got the ‘it’s green, it’ll be fine.’ Hubs had fun with his little pyro project but was disappointed the pile didn’t burn well. (The brush was fresh cut and torn down trees.) Ahh well, so sad but I was happy. The area around the pile was green but dry, that was what I had been worried about. 

Long story short, three days later I’m returning home from errands in town when I see smoke pluming from the general direction of the pasture. Interesting. I’m thinking I’ll change really quick and then check it out. More smoke belches above the corn. I gun my truck around the field and to the pasture. The wind had come up and somehow sparked the rare smoldering ember and now I had a little grass fire. A shovel, buckets of water, inventive French and a phone call to pull hubs from the field and it was out. He arrived, my knight in shining farmer gear on his charger (the gator) and pronounced it not too bad. If looks could sear… I made him put the last lick of flames that was persistently trying to get into the old wind break while I beat out some frustration on the last stretch of smoldering grass. Needless to say, the pile was then disced around under my eagle eyes. Hubs wasn’t winning any awards yet.

 I suggested that next time when wifey had a feeling and pointed out that perhaps it was too dry (it only looked green) maybe heed the suggestion and wait. I just got the look. And I might have come back with the winning serve of #itoldyouso. There was no keeping the lid on those words.

I recovered the next day from all that excitement with bookwork and a cuppa coffee. Nothing says steady on, calm and normal like those two. Perhaps I was plotting my revenge while online… online shopping for shoes to replace the month old pair that had been totaled. My poor kicks weren’t coming back from the char and soot that had been ground into them.

Today was Labor/Labour day and yes we worked. I had the fantastically smart idea to get rid of the sweetcorn in my garden. By hand. Without gloves. Painstakingly pull each one out and, according to the plan, get rid of the then pile. Yeah, I got as far as making the pile. Removing it, not so much. My hands appear to have developed some blisters. Who knew? Clearly I didn’t have enough calluses on my hands. This should make washing dishes in hot water comically funny kind of like a hot potato scenario. Maybe I should remember my gloves next time, well, next year.

However, I was able to help my now-redeemed hubs finish combining our field of edibles. It was almost as good as a date night out for coffee. A golden orange harvest moon came up while the sun drifted off in slumber with a simmering blaze of glory. The wind dramatically chased the dust in a trail behind the combine as we ate up swaths of edibles. Here and there some swaths drifted like sand dunes trailing fingers to the next. Edibles ratcheted and rattled their way across the pickup header and emerged, beautiful shelled pinto beans in the tank.

A cool wind nipped at my face as I walked back to the pickup while hubs drove off under the moon to finish the final half round. It was a gorgeous evening for combining. I wish my camera could have done it justice (cell phone wouldn’t beat a professional camera in this instance).

Pinto beans

Cheers to your shortened work week, may fall sweep in slowly and your yields be bountiful.